A Very Dramione Christmas
by hann013
Summary: Draco and Hermione through the years. A fanfic my friend and I co-wrote for Christmas.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note: **This series was written on an old blog by my friend and I during Christmastime. We alternated writing the chapters, starting with her prologue.

**DISCLAIMER:** I wanted the characters of HP for Christmas, but sadly, nada. :/**  
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><p><strong>Prologue<strong>

"Wooooow. _It's beauuutiful!"_

A little girl of not more than 10 stood with her face pressed right to the window of a bookstore. Passersby stared, amused, and often chuckling to themselves. She had a little red toque pulled over her mass tangle of curly brown hair, which at her young age was already unmanageable. Wearing a green coat, she looked positively like a little elf, dressed in the Christmas colours.

Many thought the little girl was looking at the exquisite china doll sitting in the display window, but in fact, she was admiring a first edition copy of her favourite book, _Anne of Green Gables_, which was nestled in the lap of the doll.

Behind the girl, her parents stood hand in hand, smiling at each other. They knew exactly what to get their daughter for Christmas.

Clean white snow fell gently, holly and bows were hung everywhere the eye could see, and carollers could be found at every corner. The little girl's parents told her it was time to go. As she grabbed her mother's hand in one hand and her father's hand in the other, Hermione Granger thought to herself — _It's really the most wonderful time of the year._

Walking down a festive, Christmas-transformed street were a father and a son that stood out like a sore thumb. They both were dressed in black, each with and odd black cloak. Both were rather pale, with striking features and startlingly light hair. However, what was causing many heads to turn and get a second glance at them was the expression on the young boy's face.

School was out, and it was Christmas. It ought to have been the happiest time for most children, but the solemness on the boy's face clearly said otherwise. It was an expression that seemed unfit for somebody so young, the kind of seriousness only age should have brought. The pair walked quickly down the street, not making eye-contact with anyone.

As they passed a bookshop, the little boy suddenly spotted a young girl with her face pressed to a bookstore window. Her hair was a mess, looking as if it would burst out of her little red toque any second. As she turned around, he could not help but stare. She had the biggest smile he had ever seen on her face, with both front teeth missing. Her eyes were a warm chocolate, her cheeks a rosy pink.

He was unaccustomed to seeing such a happy expression, but immediately lowered his gaze again as he was scolded by his father. "Don't stare at those worthless Muggles. Hurry up, we have to get you a new dress robe for the Christmas Ball." The father walked quicker, leaving his son behind.

The boy snuck one last peek back at the happy girl. She was now walking away, holding on to both her parents' hands. _I __**hate **__Christmas_, thought Draco Malfoy, as he hurried to catch up to his father.


	2. Winter Wonderland

**Chapter 1****: Winter Wonderland**

It was Saturday and, with classes just finished, no one wanted to start their homework yet… Except for one. _It is always good to get your homework done bright and early. Then you can enjoy yourself the rest of the weekend! Simple logic, _Hermione thought to herself.

She sat curled up in one of the big, comfy armchairs in the Gryffindor common room. With two weeks to go until Christmas, the room was covered with fresh evergreen garland and glittering tinsel. A huge Christmas tree decorated one corner, covered with intricately designed ornaments, shiny ribbons, and hundreds of tinkling Christmas lights. The fireplace, dancing with crackling flames, cast a warm golden glow on the entire room.

Across from her sat Harry Potter and Ron Weasely, battling out a game of Wizard's Chess. She'd only met them a few months ago, but they'd grown to be very good friends – though they could never understand why she _wanted_ to do homework all the time. Sometimes she suspected they only put up with her because she grudgingly agreed to do some of their homework for them.

_Speaking of homework…_ Hermione got up. The battle cries associated with the scenes of destruction from the chess game were too distracting. She decided to make a visit to the library, where, at this hour, ought to be deserted. With a "see you later," and uncommitted grunts from her busy friends, Hermione rushed off to the library.

**-OoO-**

Draco Malfoy sat crouched behind a bookshelf, reading _A History of Magic_. This was not how he had intended on spending his Saturday, but the constant letters from his parents, reminding – no, _urging_ – him to stay at the top of classes, forced him to hide away from his newfound friends Crabbe and Goyle and study. For the last hour, he'd stared out the window across from him countless times; taking in the clear blue sky, snow gradually blanketing the grass as the hours grew. He wished he was out there with the others, working on flying skills, or even just enjoying the soft white flakes that were falling from the heavens…

Draco's head popped up to glance out the window once again, lost in another winter daydream. This time however, he found his view blocked by a messy bunch of curly brown hair, put up in what looked like a desperate attempt at a ponytail. Granger.

His parents had warned him about people like her; the Mudbloods. But what Draco found even more loathing about Hermione Granger was the fact that so far, she'd managed to beat him in _every single subject, _forcing him to study even harder just to keep up! Well, except in Potions. But every time he got beat, a gleeful smirk would direct itself straight at him, and the anger would deepen. _Plus, she hangs out with Potter,_ he thought to himself with disgust. As soon as he and Potter had met, they'd become instant enemies.

Draco decided that he needed to wipe that smile off Granger's lips as soon as possible. _Why the hell was he thinking about her lips? _Rebuking himself silently, he returned again to studying for his upcoming History test.


	3. Christmas Contemplation

**Chapter 2: Christmas Contemplation**

_December 23rd, 1992_

Dear diary,

Wait. Hold on. Why am I writing to an animate object? Why am I questioning why I'm writing to an inanimate object? Why am I questioning why I'm questioning writing to an inanimate object? Okay, I've got to stop. I think I need to rest a bit after this. It must have been all the sugar cookies from dinner. I wouldn't have eaten so many, but it gave me a reason not to have to participate in the Quidditch conversation Harry and Ron were having.

I love my best friends and all, but haven't they realized by now that I'm just _not_ interested in a sport where wizards on broomsticks chase a flying ball around? It requires next to no strategy or brainpower whatsoever, and I'm not just saying that because I'm terrified of flying, as Ron and Harry always say. I'm not scared at all.

Okay, fine, maybe just a _little bit._

Anyways, time has really flown by. It's already been a year since I found out I was a witch and came to this wonderful school. We had quite an adventure last year, finding the philosopher's stone. Classes are great! Professor Lockhart is just wonderful at teaching DADA. I'm at the top of all my classes, except one. That egotistical Malfoy brat has somehow beaten me in Potions.

I do admit that his Wiggenweld potion was quite marvellous, and completed quicker than everybody else in class. However, his father knows Professor Snape, so I wouldn't be surprised if he bribed Snape into giving him extra marks. Being the spoiled git that he is, I bet he did **exactly **that.

Speaking of Malfoy, I'd rather like to hex his big head off. He always makes rude remarks and calls me names like _filthy mudblood_. Just yesterday, his two moronic friends, or minions, rather, Crabbe and Goyle, stole my book bag and hid it! It took me forever to find it, and I was late to Transfiguration. Thank goodness McGonagall likes me. I can't prove anything, but I'm sure Malfoy had something to do with the whole episode.

On another topic, it's a week until Christmas, and even Malfoy can't ruin my holiday spirit! Almost everybody will be going home for Christmas break soon, and I can't wait to see how mum and dad have decorated the tree this year.

Rumours are that the only student staying at Hogwarts over the break will be Malfoy, because his parents have urgent matters to attend to in another country, and nobody will be at their manor over the break. No matter how stupid he is, I feel sort of bad for him. Nobody should have to spend Christmas alone.

Oh well. Maybe I'll give him a Christmas present this year. Oh! That reminds me, I have to get started on wrapping presents for everyone!

I promise I'll write more later!

H. G.


	4. Repulsive Remarks

**Chapter 3****: Repulsive Remarks**

Hermione sat in Sybill Trelawney's Divination class, trying to focus on anything but "the fine art of Divination". _Pure rubbish was more like it,_ she thought to herself. Personally, Hermione thought Divination was a complete waste of time – she'd rather have taken Ancient Runes, or even Advanced Charms! They were likely to be _a lot_ more useful in the future. The dark room, eerily lit with blue candlelight, didn't improve her mood. She glanced up to see Trelawney coming around with cups and tea leaves. _Oh goodness, _she muttered under her breath, _tea readings. They'll _certainly_ help me determine my future! Nonsense._

Draco sat in Sybill Trelawney's Divination class, trying to focus on anything but "the cleansing of the mind and spirit that is Divination". _This is pure garbage, _he thought to himself. Divination was a complete waste of time – Advanced Potions, or even Transfiguration would've been more to his liking. _It would've been a heck of a more useful way to spend time on potions then this crap._ The dank, scented room was starting to get to him. He looked up wearily, to the sight of Trelawney coming around with cups and tea leaves for everyone. _Bloody hell,_ he muttered to a Crabbe who was trying to down his tea without it coming back up, _tea readings._ _Maybe it'll tell me to switch to a more functional class. Rubbish._

**-OoO-**

Divination, the final class before the holidays, had finally ended. After Trelawney had asked Harry to stay back to talk about how she'd witnessed "great danger ahead with her crystal ball", Hermione had not waited for him, desperate to get out of the classroom – the smell of the incense Trelawney always lit were starting to get to her. Once down the ladder leading to the Divination room though, she allowed herself to slow down and clear her head.

Up ahead, she could see Malfoy, walking with Crabbe and Goyle faithfully by his side. Suddenly, a folded piece of parchment fell from the stack of Malfoy's books to the ground. None of the three noticed. Hermione walked faster and went to pick it up, intending to give it back. But curiosity got the best of her, and she decided to take a peek. Unfolding it, she started to read.

_Draco,_

_I am very displeased that you only placed second in your school rankings. Must I repeat myself? – First in your house is not enough. You need to be at the top, and stay at the top. You cannot, I stress, allow some filthy Mudblood to beat you – our Pureblood reputations will be destroyed, should you continue. We cannot let that happen._

_No words of encouragement? Nice wishes? Only harsh words of criticism, _Hermione thought as she read.

_I have brought you new__, pristine dress robes for the Christmas Ball. Remember that all the upper-class Purebloods will be attending. It shall be a grand time. Meanwhile, practice your manners; we will not allow you to behave so atrociously like last time. Your mother and I hope that in growing older, you will have matured._

_Father _

Finished reading, Hermione hurried to catch up to Malfoy and his gang.

"Malfoy!" Malfoy turned back, a cold stare already registering on his face. "You dropped this."

Malfoy looked at the piece of parchment, recognition in his eyes. He glanced up at Hermione; he saw a flicker of… sorrow? Apology? Regret? But the moment passed so fast he wasn't sure whether or not it had just been a pigment of his imagination.

"So nice of you to return it to me Granger… after reading it through thoroughly." His voice was hard and cold.

"Gee, Malfoy. No words of gratitude or thanks? I expected just as much," came the equally snide retort.

They glared at each other, both intent on winning the battle. Something within Draco shifted; he didn't know what. In a calm voice, he broke the silence. "Get out of my face, Mudblood."

"You _moron!_ I'd rather get out of your life!" screamed Hermione, "clearly the manners still need working on, don't you think?" Then, without a second glance, she flew down the hallway and up the stairs. It wasn't until she reached the Gryffindor common room, did she break down and begin to cry.


	5. Owl's Observation

**Author's Note: **If you've been counting, my friend wrote this chapter, and changed it up a little, writing from a whole new perspective...**  
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><p><strong>Chapter 4: Owl's Observation<strong>

Owls have souls. They really do, I mean, after flying around delivering things for humans all our lives, we deserve to have some sort of afterlife too, right? Anyhow, some people have got it in their head that we just *poof* disappear once we die. But we don't. And now the million pound question. Who am I, and why am I intruding in this 'GU' place?

Well, I'm an owl, you see. Not just any normal owl, but one that was very special to a student here at Hogwarts Witchcraft and Wizardry. So special in fact, that when I died, I was painted and hung in the corridor leading to the Owlery, in the West Tower. Quite a good choice, as most of my friends are still there. You may have seen my picture before, or maybe not.

Anyhow, I'm here today because two odd Muggles found me the other day and asked me to come and share a story. I've seen a lot through the years, but they wanted me to tell you about this one. Here we go!

**-OoO-**

About a decade ago, I saw a very curious occurrence that I cannot forget. It was a week to Christmas, and every student was excited for the Yule Ball, as they would be having the chance to go to the ball with students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. It was the year of the Tri-Wizard tournament, of course.

I was having my daily morning fly though some portraits in front of the Great Hall, when I saw a boy hiding behind a podium, in the shadows. Curious to what he was doing, I silently flew to the portrait behind him, and looked towards the entrance of the Great Hall.

The scene that he was observing consisted of one of the Tri-Wizard tournament competitors from Durmstrang, and a curly-haired girl from Hogwarts. It looked like he was asking the girl to accompany him to the Yule ball. I couldn't really hear, so I flew to a closer portrait. _"... of course I will, Viktor! By the way, I loved the chocolate truffles, how did you know I loved dark chocolate? ..."_

What I heard confirmed my theory. I flew back to the portrait behind the hiding boy. I was very surprised to hear him cursing, and I thought I heard _"...that shit-faced bugger, taking credit for what I did..." _I quietly perched on a branch, and continued to observe in the painting. The hiding boy waited for a while after the happy couple departed, then left as well.

**-OoO-**

I don't know why the Muggles who asked me to come were so surprised when I told them this story. I guess I'm just a very observant owl, is all! Well, that's that. I hope my story was interesting, but now I've really got to fly off to the Fat Lady, I promised her I'd visit today!


	6. Merry Melancholy

**Author's Note: **Due to issues with formatting - this website's formatting is so weird... - the effect of this chapter isn't as awesome as it is with its format. In fact, I've even had to resort to using a horrid "**-OoO-**" between stanzas. But, regardless, try to enjoy it for what it is. :P**  
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><p><strong>Chapter 5: <strong>**Merry Melancholy **

Candles glowing;

red and green.

Streamers;

gold, silver, dangling from the ceilings

of the Great Hall.

_The arrival of Christmas._

-O-

This time around;

no joy or Christmas spirit.

Only silent nights;

waiting for the cheering, happiness

to be over.

_Christmas is so nostalgic._

-O-

_Snow is cold_

_Home is cold_

_I am cold_

_cold_

_cold._

Bitter memories line my thoughts;

even my own sarcastic commentary

is not welcome;

not this time.

-O-

_The bells rang loud, last time_

_The laughter rang loud, last time_

_Until everything got too loud_

_ loud_

_ loud._

People spiralling, orchestra playing;

they dot my vision

like mosquitoes;

unwanted but persistent.

-O-

_The beautiful pale pink dress…_

-O-

One chance.

_Once-in-a-lifetime chance._

-O-

Two times.

_Two f__ucking times._

-O-

Three others.

_Three better __others? No way._

-O-

No one knows it, but I _asked_ her.

_And she said no._

-O-

_Why do I care so much anyway?_


	7. Cogent Charade

**Chapter 6: Cogent Charade**

It's that time of year again. Mum and dad have gotten the tree up, and it's been beautifully decorated with garlands, ornaments, and lights. Snow is lightly falling outside, and already a dozen carollers have rung our doorbell and bellowed their merry tunes.

I don't know why, but somewhere along the way, Christmas has lost its magic for me. With each passing year, it has become increasingly evident that the holiday is just a charade. At the end of the day, when the celebration finishes, we all go back to normal. When the clock strikes twelve, even the most beautiful dress becomes tattered rags, and the most elaborate carriage turns out to be but a pumpkin. The lonely are still ignored, the problems still so big there's no way to patch them up.

I sit here, on my window ledge. Looking down, looking at the neighbours, two Muggle children happily playing in the snow. The sister makes a snow angel, and the brother makes a snowman. They are so happy, so ignorant, so innocent. Do they know what is happening? Will they be the Dark Lord's next victims?

I know so much, but I'd rather not know at all. I_ should_ be worrying about Harry, _should_ be helping him figure out what Dumbledore's lessons mean, _should _be ignoring everything else and just playing the perfect part. I'm so sick of being the sidekick, of being the perfect one, the 'brains' of the Golden Trio.

So many _shoulds_, but all I do is keep finding myself thinking about him. Malfoy. He hadn't made a single offensive comment at me for two years now. Ever since fourth year, it's like he's become somebody else. Quieter. More serious. More... burdened. I can't help wondering, what's happened? Could Harry possibly be right? Could he really be a Death Eater? If only I were braver. If only I could just ask.

Sometimes, I think he catches me staring at him. Something quickly flickers in his eyes... Disgust? Understanding - understanding of my need to know what is bothering him? Who am I kidding. Of my need to be a nosy know-it-all? Yeah right. But always, before I can place the emotion, it disappears. His face becomes as stony as before, and whatever expression his eyes may have betrayed disappears. His gaze becomes glassy obsidians once again.

Sometimes, I think he wants somebody to ask him. Just so he can finally tell somebody what he's feeling. I long to be that somebody.

But we both know that I won't. I must keep playing my part perfectly, be the best actress. Even if I am no longer able to tell what is a lie and what is really me.

Like Christmas, I am a charade.


	8. Reminiscent Rendezvous

**Author's Note: **I apologize beforehand that this chapter is a bit random. I had little time to write it, and so in the end it was - at least to my perfectionist standards - not quite up to par. However, I didn't want to completely revise the plot, so I'm just keeping the original. Hope you're not as much of a perfectionist as I am!

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><p><strong>Chapter 7: Reminiscent Rendezvous<strong>

_This has to be the worst Christmas ever, _Hermione thought to herself. It wasn't a bitter thought; just a mere fact, a sad reality. It was Christmas Eve, and everyone had already gone to bed. But no matter what, Hermione couldn't fall asleep. She sat up on her bed, in her temporary room at Shell Cottage, and turned the bedside table lamp on.

_My parents don't know I exist, Ron ran away…_

Ron. Hermione liked Ron fine, but something had changed after he left. Or perhaps whatever had been lost hadn't been there at all in the first place - yet another charade. He'd pleaded with her in sixth year to go out with him, and, not knowing any better, she'd agreed. But in his short absence, she'd realized that while he cared for her, they didn't _like_ each other in that way, much less love. And he had betrayed not only her, but Harry as well, by leaving them.

Not wanting to break the already-fragile relationship between the three of them though, and with more pressing matters on her mind these days, Hermione hadn't said anything to him. She wanted to keep it that way - at least until after the impending battle had been fought. Meanwhile, it'd give her some more to think through it all.

_I was on the fringe of being murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange, we just barely escaped Malfoy Manor…_

Malfoy Manor. It was only a few days ago that they'd been trapped there, held for questioning. Of all the events that had happened there though, she remembered one the most clearly: Draco. Bellatrix had asked – no, forced was more like it – Draco to come and determine whether or not they were actually thy "Golden Trio". As soon as he'd stared into her eyes, recognition had flickered. He almost seemed to be peering _into_ her, searching for something that wasn't there. He had looked scared too. _But then again, wasn't everyone?_ Though he could clearly tell it was her, he'd flatly denied it. And maybe that was really what saved the three of them.

To this day, Hermione wondered why. Why would _Malfoy,_ someone who she hated, and hated her right back, feel any obligation to save her life? As she'd stared into those steely grey eyes, she'd felt… a connection? She couldn't quite understand it. But maybe it being there at all was enough for now.

_Happy holidays Draco, _she murmured, before fatigue finally overtook her and she fell asleep.

**-OoO-**

Draco lay awake, thinking. Suddenly he remembered that it was Christmas Eve. _Damn Christmas,_ he thought. _Everyone fakes being happy, and then everything goes back to their nasty state again._ This year, his parents hadn't even bothered _pretending_ they were celebrating the holiday. They'd both been too busy focusing on the Dark Lord's plans…

If it had been his choice, he wouldn't have joined the force of the Death Eaters. He would've stayed out of the battle, in his own world where the Dark Lord did not exist. But his father had forced him to join, saying it would reflect well on their family. Secretly, Draco resented Voldemort. He knew the truth behind the Dark Lord's lies and plans – murder. Murdering all who were not like them, though they did nothing wrong.

_Like Hermione,_ he thought. For the past few days, his thoughts had flashed back constantly to that night. He'd stared into her pleading eyes, and felt… pity. Sadness. Anger that it had to go down like this. They were emotions he was unfamiliar with, and for that he was scared. Was he becoming like the Dark Lord too: cold and emotionless?

Despite all his actions, he secretly cared. About _her. _Though of course he'd never tell; not in a million years. But upon seeing Hermione being tortured again and again by his aunt, Draco had longed to go over there and protect her; take all the pain for himself, which he deserved. The one thing that stopped him was betrayal. He would've betrayed his family, something he could not bring himself to do.

Which was why he had grasped the chance of denying his aunt, and lied. He owed much more to Granger, but it had been the most he could do. For now. He hoped she was safe; there'd been no word on where they'd gone after disapparating with the house elf. He hoped that wherever she was now, she had a nice warm bed to sleep in and food on the table each day. These _kind_ thoughts were foreign to him. _But hey, I think I can get used to them. _It was funny really, how much he cared about Granger now. Or, rather, how much he admitted it.

_All this thinking is starting to get to me._ Better go to sleep now, he thought. _Merry Christmas, Hermione. Wherever you are._


	9. Garden Germination

**Chapter 8: Garden Germination**

A twirling blur of vermilion. A swish of byzantium. A whip of wisteria. Looking at the dancers in the grand ballroom made Draco Malfoy had to be the sickest type of déjà vu he had ever encountered. He'd never liked the lavish balls his parents used to throw. He scanned the group of mingling guests on the side, and found the person he was searching for.

Making his way through the guests, he tapped the shoulder of a witch wearing an elegant cream-coloured dress. Turning around, Narcissa Malfoy gave him a weary smile. Her once-perfect face was now lined with gentle wrinkles, no doubt an after-effect of the war. Ever since Lucius had been carted off to Azkaban, she had been working hard to redeem the Malfoy name. Making large donations to numerous organizations, making appearances at volunteer galas, she had tried everything in order to gain back the trust and respect her name had once had.

It was only now, a full three years later, that she dared invite high standing members of the wizarding community to the Manor again. The Ministry, business partners, the Golden Trio, everybody had been invited. If the Christmas Ball was a success, it would certainly go a long way towards helping repair their image again. The truth was, Draco wouldn't have even attended the ball, if he didn't know how much it meant to his mother. There was nothing he wanted to do less than face the rest of the world again, after everything that had happened, even if it _was_ three years ago.

_Draco, where have you been all evening? Come here. I want to introduce you__**-**_

_**Mother, I am going outside to get some fresh air.**_

With that, he strode away, and headed for the garden.

**-OoO-**

All the spinning, whirling, and pirouetting of the dancers was making her dizzy. The only reason Hermione Granger had attended the Christmas Ball at Malfoy Manor was because she didn't want to let Narcissa down. The woman seemed to really have changed in the years following the war, helping out in the community, and even donating to the charity Hermione had set up for the Protection of Magical Creatures. The woman seemed to have so much hope when she personally handed Hermione the invitation, and she couldn't bring herself to burst that bubble.

She walked over to Ron, who was animatedly talking to a pretty brunette that worked in the ministry. They had come to the ball together, as Harry wasn't able to attend, due to his wish to spend Christmas with Ginny and their newly born son, James. Hermione and Ron had split up a few months after the war. They had parted amicably on the mutual agreement that they were just to different for things to work.

She tapped him on the shoulder.

_**Ron, I'm going outside to get some air, okay? **_He didn't respond, so she repeated his name. _**Ron? **_He gave a non-committal grunt. She took that as a sign to leave, and exited for the garden.

**-OoO-**

As Draco stepped outside, the cold air hit him immediately, causing him to shiver slightly. It was also strangely refreshing. As he walked on the snow-covered path, his thoughts carried him away.

_It's been three years. Why is everybody acting like nothing ever happened? Why can't I go back to normal?_

**-OoO-**

Sitting on a bench under a tree, Hermione looked up. She saw bright Christmas lights wrapped in the branches of the tree. The flashing lights were strangely mesmerizing, and reminded her of the days when she used to love Christmas. It was cold, but she didn't care. Her tingling fingers and toes made her feel strangely alive, more alive then she had felt since the war.

_It's been three years. Why can't I forget about what happened? Why can't I go back to normal like everybody else?_

**-OoO-**

He snapped out of his contemplations when he saw her. Granger. The one that he had spent three years attempting to forget, the one who had saved his mother and him. She was sitting under the central ash tree, staring up at the sky.

He didn't say a word, as he walked over and sat down beside her. After a period of stony silence, he opened his mouth to speak.

_**Granger. It's been three years. It's Christmas Eve. Let's just put our differences aside for one night, alright?**_

Funny. Malfoy seemed to be making a serious offer. Oddly, he didn't seem as repulsive as back in school. Blast it all, she was too tired to be hostile.

_Okay. One night._

Draco conjured up a bottle of firewhisky, poured them each a glass, and drank in silence.

A few minutes passed before she spoke again.

_I don't get it._

_**Hm? **_He almost choked from surprise as her small voice filled the air.

_It's been three years. The war is over. So why can't I forget about anything? I don't want to be the only one left behind._

Draco pauses.

_**You aren't.**_

_I'm not what?_

_**The only one. I can't forget about any of it either. It's like nobody remembers what happened, and I'm stuck behind, frozen in time, frozen with terrible memories in my head.**_

She stared at him. Then_,_

_Exactly._

**-OoO-**

They had lost track of how much time had passed. Hermione and Draco had talked, openly talked about everything. The war, their days at school. They cleared up many misunderstandings. Hermione was surprised to find that so many of their thoughts were the same. Draco was surprised that so many of his observations had been correct.

They now sat in a content silence, each sipping cups of newly conjured butter beer. This time, Draco spoke.

_**I'll tell you something that I've never told anybody before. Do you still remember fourth year, the Yule Ball?**_

_Yes, of course. I went with Krum. I really regret that now._

_**Well, do you still remember the chocolate truffles you got? They came in a box with a green ribbon.**_

_How do you know about those?_

_**It was me who gave them to you. I was the one who asked you to meet me in the great hall, so I could ask you to the Ball. Not Krum.**_

The following silence was filled with a million unsaid apologies, and he accepted.

Another period of silence followed. Snow began lightly falling again. They stared up at the sky, snowflakes gently resting on noses and eyelashes.

_Okay, I'll tell you something that I've never told anybody before either._

_You know, I used to love Christmas. It was the most merry time of year, where everybody could get together with family, and compassion would be contagious. But one year, I just stopped believing. It just didn't make any more sense. I realized then, that Christmas was just a charade._

_**I've felt that way too. I mean, once the holidays are over, nobody gives a shit anymore, and it's like nothing ever happened. Kind of like how we feel about the war.**_

_But tonight, while talking to you, I think I've got it. The meaning of Christmas. It kind of makes sense again, now._

_**Oh?**_

_At the commencement of the ball earlier this evening. You were standing in the background behind Narcissa. And you had the most peculiar expression on your face. One that I swear I've seen before. _  
><em><br>__**Really. **_  
><em><strong><br>**__Yes. I'd seen it once before. A while back, before I knew I was a witch, before I even knew what Hogwarts was._

_One Christmas, while Christmas shopping with my parents, I remember a very curious scene. I had just finished admiring my favourite book in the window of a bookshop, and had turned around to go home with my parents._

_Lots of people around me were pointing and whispering, so I stopped to see what they were staring at. Walking down the festive street, I saw a father and son dressed in all black, they were probably wizards. The little boy had the saddest expression on his face, and I remember wondering what on earth could possibly be making him so sad. In that moment, I promised myself that I would always use Christmas time to make sure that nobody showed that expression. I'd always try to make sure as many people were happy as possible on Christmas._

A moment passed.

Something clicked in that moment.

Draco's face lit up, and for the first time Hermione had ever seen, he smiled. He raised his glass to toast hers.

_**Merry Christmas, Granger.**_


	10. Epilogue

**Author's Note: **Well, well... this is it, the final chapter! Will Draco and Hermione finally get the Christmas they deserve? **  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Epilogue: Debonair Dance<strong>

She hurried along the sidewalk, intent on getting home. It was close to midnight already, and somehow, even London managed to seem asleep. It was Christmas Eve; she was walking home from a Holiday party with her Muggle friends. Forgetting to bring a change of shoes however, Hermione stumbled along in her high heels.

Snow fell gently, blanketing roads and turning houses into gingerbread illusions. _I'm tired and cold. I still have to prepare food for tomorrow's Christmas party at the Burrow. __**And**__ buy Christmas gifts for everyone. _She groaned audibly at the reminder. _That can wait until tomorrow._

Deep within her thoughts, she failed to look up and, upon turning a corner, ran smack into someone. "Omigosh I'm so s–" Looking up, she saw a shock of blonde hair, and realized who it was.

The horror from the crash turned into a look of surprise. "Malfoy? What are you doing wandering the streets at this time of night?"

"The same can be asked of you."

"Walking home from a Christmas party with some friends. _Muggle_ friends," she clarified when his eyebrows rose. "…Well, I probably should get going. It was nice seeing y–"

"Granger, come have a coffee with me. You sure look like you can use one."

_Malfoy, _out of all people, was making such an offer to her? Maybe she was so tired she was having delusions. "But I really have to–"

"It won't take long. Besides, I insist."

"I don't have time for t–" But even as she spoke, she was being directed into a nearby café.

"Goodness gracious," she grumbled, "why do you _always_ get your way?"

He smirked. "Because I'm a Malfoy."

**-OoO-**

"So Granger, how's the Golden Trio doing these days?" Draco asked over a steaming cup of latte.

"Fine, thank you." She replied politely. "Harry and Ron have both become Aurors."

"Ha! With brains like his, the Weasel actually got a job?" He smirked, and ignoring the glare from Hermione, continued. "And yourself?"

Suddenly, a voice filled the entire room. "Ladies and gentlemen, it is time for our Christmas Eve Midnight Dance!" Soft music began to play in the overhead speakers and all around, Muggle couples were beginning to get up and dance. Hermione and Draco looked around awkwardly.

Hermione quickly answered. "Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures."

_Figures, _Draco thought to himself. "Yes, you always did like those house elves. I still have nightmares about S. P. E. W.!"

"Very funny." She decided to let it go. "And you, Malfoy? I haven't seen you around these days."

"You'd better hope not. I became a Healer at St. Mungo's – I create healing potions."

"Yes… That was the one subject you always beat me at," Hermione laughed a little to herself. "Though, I always wondered whether or not it was because Snape _fancied_ you a little."

Even Draco had to flash a smile at the thought. "_One_ subject and you're still putting it against me ten years later? That's so like you."

"Draco." He glanced up at her, startled at hearing his first name. Her voice had suddenly changed tones; the atmosphere became sombre. "I… I just want to know, why did you save us that day at your Manor? You didn't have to. I saw it in your eyes – you knew it was me."

_So she knew,_ he thought. "Why'd you refuse to dance with me at the Yule Ball in fourth year?" He countered.

_Why'd he bring tha–?_ But glancing down, Hermione realized she'd chosen a pale, pink gown for the night. _Oh._ "You first," she said.

"Dammit Granger, do you really think I would've let my aunt _murder _you that day? I'm not as cold-hearted as I tend to lead on. I didn't want to be part of the Dark Lord's plans, but my dad forced me! I had no choice but to do what Voldemort wanted of me, but I still tried to do what I could. Besides I–"

_Crapcrapcrap._ He'd said too much. _I can't, won't have her find out. _

But she'd caught on. "Besides what? What were you going to say?" Her voice was soft.

He quickly changed the subject. "Answer my question first."

"I wanted to dance with you, Draco. I really did." There was his first name again. "But I just couldn't bring myself to do it."

"Why?" The question fell, broken, from his lips.

"If I'd danced with you, it would've gone against everything I'd known! Don't you see? I've been a coward all this time. Too scared to go against what I was _supposed_ to, meant to do. I did only what people expected of me, but in the process, I lost myself." She looked at him, tears in her eyes as she realized she'd lied, hidden the truth from herself all along.

"You're not the only one." He spoke quietly, looking into her eyes. "If I'd been braver, I would've tried harder."

"Harder? To do what?"

"Dammit Hermione!" He seemed to like using that word a lot. "I've fancied you since fourth year! You've rejected me multiple times, and still I would've killed myself to save your life. Yet I taunted you, called you every single degrading name I could think of, and hurt you because I couldn't bear to admit it to my friends, my family... anyone! Now I realize I was just scared. Too scared to actually do anything."

A huge, uncomfortable silence followed. Hermione wondered what she was going to say. Draco wondered whether or not she was ever going to respond.

"Draco, will you dance with me?" She asked suddenly. To herself: _This is going against anything and everything I've ever believed in._

Incredulous, he looked up at her; she smiled faintly. Without saying a word he got up, and held out his hand.

They danced and waltzed together far into the night, content and happy. _All the waiting has paid off,_ the two thought together. _It's better late than never._

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><p><strong>AN:** So... what'd you think? You know you want to press the review button!_  
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